Stellar

Chapter Two: Fly Casual

"Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope."

Princess Leia's hologram dazzled in ultra-definition. If it weren't for the crickets chirping to a melting sun and the chilly evening air swooping in through the open observatory doors, Lucine could almost convince herself she was inside the movie.

But no, her life wasn't so spectacular. And while her legendary astronomer-of-a-father probably earned as much as George Lucas had on the Star Wars franchise, none of the magic came with the money. Sure, they got a nice house and a few fancy television and a bulky observatory built into their roof (which wasn't the most appealing rooftop decoration, by the way), but that was it. No using the Force. No Jedis or evil Sith lords or wise green aliens to spice up her life.

Instead, Lucine got an overbearing surname and a legacy written in the stars--one that she'd do anything to defy.

Oh, except for telling her father how she actually felt about astronomy. How her so-called passion for all those glittering galactic bodies that adorned the night sky had been sucked into oblivion a long time ago. How her passion had blossomed into the exact opposite of space.

And now the daughter of famous astronomer Jaycox Callisto wanted to be a biologist instead of following her father's footsteps.

Lucine wrapped the wooly blanket--galaxy-printed, just like everything else in the house--tighter around her shoulders. Beside her, Mr. Callisto settled down the beach towel he had laid out for them on the cold observatory floor. The light of the vibrant evening sky shone in radiant oranges and reds from behind them, where the observatory had been cracked open for the air to seep through.

As Luke Skywalker leaned to shut off Leia's hologram on the television, Lucine risked a side glance at her dad. Most of her features had come from him rather than her mother: pale skin that burned at the slightest glare of the sun, a pointy, jutted chin, feathery hair that refused to untangle. His blue eyes, framed by professor-styled eyeglasses, were locked on the movie. His parted lips moved to murmur each line.

It was nearly ridiculous how many times they had watched this movie together--all the Star Wars movies, actually, even those Orion-awful prequels with demonic Jar-Jar Binks. Ask a Callisto to cite a bible verse, and a blank stare would be the only answer. Ask a Callisto to rattle off the entire script of "Star Wars: A New Hope", though...

They didn't have an obsession, per say. Star Wars was the only thing related to outer space that Lucine could tolerate--any other talk of stars would send her running. It was lucky that her father just so happened to adore Star Wars as much as she did--otherwise, Lucine doubted she could ever be around her father for very long.

She loved her father...except that his presence came with a speech of her glorified destiny she needed to fulfill and the family name she needed to uphold. You'll be an astronomer like your old man, he would say. Won't that be spiffy?

Yeah, almost as spiffy as tossing herself into a trash compactor.

Hence Star Wars. Because their shared love for the movies drowned out every horrible lecture and every useless astronomy fun fact and every hair-tearing moment of stress from Lucine's mind.

Their one rule during these marathons was that they never, under any circumstances, paused the movie. Not for a bathroom break, not for a house fire. So when the film froze exactly where Darth Vader began dueling Obi-Wan, Lucine's mouth fell open.

She looked over to find Mr. Callisto staring at her, finger still hovering over the pause button on the remote. "Moon Pie," he started, and Lucine clenched her teeth against a groan. She knew that tone of voice; that was his I'm-about-to-tell-you-about-your-future-that-I-already- determined-for-you voice.